Together Undivided
by ronsparkles
Summary: Seven were cursed with Greed, Envy, Pride, Gluttony, Wrath, Sloth, and Lust by Voldemort's dying breath. They must now learn how to overcome the deadly sins through many humorous trials and tribulations.
1. Seven Deadly Sins

**_Author's Notes: Ok, so I know that I haven't written anything in quite awhile so I'm thinking I'll be a little rusty. I was struck with sudden inspiration to write a fic (and procrastinate studying for my finals) so here it is…Enjoy! (Please review!)_**

_Chapter 1_

Harry placed his final touches on his job application. Feeling particularly pleased with himself, Harry marched up to the manager and scheduled a job interview at Wal-Mart would hire him. He recently found himself off Ramen Noodles and kegs of Butterbeer. Of course, that was fine for the first six months, but not any more. Now that his clothes were falling apart, he had no hot water for showers, and people stopped recognizing him on the street because he couldn't afford a proper haircut, he realized a job was necessary. "Wal-mart-here I come!" thought Harry with a peculiar sense of pride.

Draco adjusted his snakeskin tuxedo. He checked his reflection once more before stepping onto the runway. As he approached the bulk of the cameras, he spun around and winked to a few lucky fans. The group of girls managed to squeal and cheer even louder at the model's seductive winks. Draco spun around a final time and sauntered back to his dressing room, thoughts of beautiful women spinning around in his mind.

Hermione twitched as she hit the wrong key on her typewriter. "WHERE IS MY DOUBLE CHOCOLATE FRAPPUCCINO!" she bellowed at her frightened and bumbling assistant. "I specifically requested it to be on my desk at 7:08 every morning," she continued, but now in an unnervingly calm, quiet voice. "Why is this so DIFFICULT!" She threw the typewriter against the wall and cackled as pieces scattered around the room. Her assistant screamed and ran from the room, immediately quitting her job. "Third one this month," she grumbled. "_Reparo._" The typewriter flew back into one piece and set itself onto her impeccably organized desk.

Ginny placed the empty Ben & Jerry's ice cream container beside the couch. She speed-dialed Pizza Hut Pizza. "The Usual," Ginny sighed into the phone.

"That'll be 47 pounds," the voice crackled. "We'll be there shortly." After breaking her 12th diet, she planned to drown her sorrows in ice cream and greasy pizza. She flipped the channels to pass the time until the pizza arrived at her run-down apartment.

The doorbell rang. Ginny rolled off the couch and made the treacherous journey from the sofa to the door. She panted with effort, pulling herself across the tile floor. Utilizing the door handle, Ginevra Weasley lifted all 200 pounds of herself off the ground and into what resembled a standing position.

An impatient knocking on the door drifted into her apartment. "Coming!" gasped Ginny. She swung the door open, eagerly breathing in the cheesy aromas.

George opened the cash register and breathed in the crisp scent of money. The day had been a profitable one, but George was still determined to outdo himself.

"How much?" Fred asked, engrossed in the explosions of their brand new product.

"327 pound, 8 sickles, and a dung bomb," George replied, nonchalantly pocketing a couple of the silver coins.

"Fight ya' for the dung bomb, brother." Fred, in a remarkable display of grace, leapt over the counter and attempted to tackle George. George grinned and moved to the side. Fred kept going. _CRASH!_ "Bloody hell!" was heard through the shattering display cases and detonations of most of their products. This, of course, was immediately followed by uproarious laughter and the smell of the dung bomb.

"Was it worth it, brother?" George laughed and made a break for the door before the smell consumed him.

"Always." Fred slumped over and passed out from the awful stench emanating from the bomb.

Hermione got the brains. Ginny got the beauty. Harry got the fame. Fred and George got the pranks. Malfoy got the money. Ron Weasley lay on his rickety bed and continued his list. Dumbledore got the power. Moody got the cool eye. Krum got the talent. Charlie got—. "Ron?" Molly called up the stairs. "Supper's ready!" _I, _he grumbled, _got the hand-me-downs, wedgies, and the famous freckles. _Life sucked for Ronald Weasley. He glanced at his father's expensive looking watch and imagined himself sporting it while he climbed into his brand new car. He apathetically scooped stew into his bowl.

Remus Lupin rolled over in his sleep. Sleep—one thing he'd found himself doing quite a bit. He was always exhausted, never up to go outside or get up for that matter. As he drifted into a sluggish slumber once again, he recalled a memory that had been haunting him for the past year.

"_Sette sins mortali regoleranno i vostri pensieri per tutto il tempo!" Voldemort's dying breath rang out in waves of dark magic. "Acedia! Ira! Avaritia! Superbia! Invidia! Gula! Luxuria!" Those surrounding him could not fathom the depths to which his words would scar them. Their lives forever marked by the Dark Lord's curse. Remus, Hermione, George, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco Malfoy blinked in confusion. Remus was the only one who understood: "Seven deadly sins will rule your thoughts for all of time." _

Not even Remus realized the depths of this curse. The sins—sloth, wrath, greed, pride, envy, gluttony, and lust—were more powerful than any imagined. _Perhaps,_ Remus thought wryly, _even more powerful than Voldemort realized. _It would be weeks and months until the sins started taking effect. It began differently for each of the seven: with a thought, a yawn, a yearning, a glance, a taste, a desire, and an annoyance.

The werewolf soon grew tired and closed his eyes once again, succumbing to the call for slumber.

**_Author's Notes: Please review and let me know if I should continue._**


	2. Gluttony

_**Author's Notes: Sorry for the wait…I've been busy and writing an original story, but bear with me and I'll keep writing.**_

_Don't fill your mouth with gluttony._

"Cravings: that's how it all started," grumbled Ginny. "I like eating. Is that a crime? Food is my remedy in life. After we disposed of Voldemort—scrawny little bugger—I didn't have much to occupy my time. Naturally, I invested my time and money into eating. My mum started worrying once I stopped fitting into the sweaters she makes me at Christmas-time. They were always about 10 sizes to big—more like dresses—until recently. _I_ started worrying when I ran out of money to buy food. I sold most of my furniture on ebay in order to fund my growing list of groceries…not to mention my emergency calls to pizzahut. All of their employees recognize the sound of my voice." Ginny paused to take a sad breath. "I even put it on speed dial," she admitted. "It saves time and energy, very handy."

"Tell us about the _incident_," the eerily calm counselor folded her manicured fingers across her lap and adjusted her glasses. "In order to…" she prompted.

"Conquer our anger," the class responded.

"We must," she continued.

"Confront our mistakes," monotonous voices droned their mantra.

"Please continue, Ginevra."

"Oh bugger. I called for the pizza and requested a party-size with mushrooms, onions, pepperoni, sausage, peppers, pineapple, ham, olives, and _extra_ cheese. And _what_ did they bring me? Regular amounts of cheese. Keep in mind that I hadn't eaten for _two hours _at this point—atrocious, I say! I was just filled with this horrible feeling! I can't truly describe it; it was bloody awful. I was just upset down to my core! I felt like my life had no meaning. I asked myself, 'how dare they do this to me?' I punched Harold Luven IV in the nose."

"Harold Luven?" the counselor questioned cautiously.

"The pizza delivery boy."

"Oh, please continue."

"As I was saying, I punched him. He hurts me; I hurt him. Fair is—"

"Ginevra," the counselor interrupted, "we must conquer our anger, not fuel it."

"THIS IS BLOODY RIDICULOUS!" one of the other members exploded. "I have been waiting here listening to this lard blabber on! I need to leave! I have work to do! This is a waste of time!"

"Ms. Granger, please. You'll be next."

"Fine." she grumbled incoherently.

"Now-who knows what Ginny did wrong? Yes, Bob?"

"She got revenge while she should have been doing her breathing exercises."

"Very good. Let's all practice our breathing exercises together. Claire, could you please lead us?"

"It would be an honor!" she chirped.

"I _hate_ happy people," Hermione said not-so-quietly to the man next to her.

"Breath in-2-3-4, out-2-3-4, in-2-3-4-5, out-2-3-4-5, in-2-3-4-5-6, out-2-3-4-5-6, in-2-3—"

"ARRRGGHH!" Hermione jumped up from her chair. "I REFUSE TO LISTEN TO THIS HAPPY CRAP FOR ONE MORE SECOND!" Hermione Granger then began to destroy things. The pictures of sunshine and butterflies were the first to go. Their deaths were followed by the heads of the bunny stuffed animals and afterwards their bodies. The inspirational banners that 'believe in you' were ripped into many pieces and scattered across the room.

The counselor, Erin Chesna, squealed and ran out of the building. Ms. Granger dismissed class. "Hermione," Ginny greeted the raging lunatic still destroying things. Hermione stopped in her warpath long enough to give a grunt of greeting. "Er—how's—erm—business?"

"I've been fired until I complete this class!" Hermione started eyeing up Ginny's head and then cackling. Ginny feared she might end up like the headless bunnies. She ran away as quickly as she could…which wasn't even a power walk.

_**Author's Notes: Soooooo sorry about the wait. Next chapter will be up much sooner (hopefully). Please Review. Please. I beg of you.**_


	3. Lust

_**Author's Notes: Sooooo sorry. Life is so crazy. Anyway-Marching Band will officially be over tomorrow, so I should have more time. Thank you for being so patient. (In my defense I have two papers due on Monday which I'm not doing right now). Really short chapter...but I felt I had to at least put something out here. Enjoy and review-it'll make me update faster.**_

After Hermione's breakdown at Anger Management Class, the counselor suggested a nice, relaxing evening so Hermione could enjoy herself without putting anyone in danger. Erin Chesna knew just the thing—the Swish & Swash modeling agency was introducing a new line of tuxedoes.

"No."

"If you want to get control of your life again, there are certain steps you must take."

"Swish & Swash is not going to cure me! Give me a potion, shots, a stress ball—not a modeling agency, you git!"

A few hours later, Hermione found herself at the runway, ducking behind a potted plant. Alas, Erin found her and dragged her into their front row, dead center V.I.P. seats. Leaning over, Erin informed her, "I got you a V.I.P Backstage Pass!" Hermione stared blankly. "No need to thank me, Hermione. I have certain connections with Swish & Swash." Before she had to give a crude response, the lights dimmed dramatically as techno music drifted around the room.

"Witches and wizards!" The overenthusiastic announcer gesticulated wildly. "Please put your hands together for our top model, Draco Malfoy! This evening he will be modeling a white dragon hide tuxedo complete with golden accents and a dragon scale tail!"

"I'm so excited!" Erin Chesna grinned.

"Kill me."

Draco Malfoy sashayed down the runway with a golden cape slung over his left shoulder and dragon hide shoes clicking obnoxiously. Hermione thought he had a splinter of some sort in his eye because of the way he kept twitching. When she informed Erin, she got a dreamy sigh, "Winking, Hermione." Three hours crawled by like a crippled drunk baby. She bounded out of her seat and attempted to sprint to the door, but Erin had already slung the V.I.P. pass around her neck and shoved her in the direction a very intimidating bouncer, who happened to be her escort.

She followed behind him, pouting. They reached a door with a humble-looking plaque on the door. And by humble I mean spelling out Draco in an array of colors, which flashed every time you blinked. Hermione blinked. And blinked. And blinked some more, unnaturally amused by the color changing letters. "Mr. Malfoy, sir? Your special guest for the evening has arrived." Hermione stopped blinking.

"Miss Chesna," he whispered seductively as he opened the door. His partially unbuttoned shirt exposed his toned chest. Reaching for the feminine hand, he kissed it. Draco Malfoy was taken by surprise, however, when that delicate hand slapped him across the face, and an unmistakable voice echoed around his tender head.


End file.
